


Us Against the World

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Series: The Vampire, the Hunter, and the Woman [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Multi, Vampire!Steve, hunter!bucky, playing fast and loose with supernatural lore, supernatural!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: A year since you discovered Steve was a vampire and met Bucky, all in the same night. A lot has changed since then, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. With the world out to get you, you take each and every day with the two men as a blessing.Even if one is a bloodsucking immortal vampire and the other promises to put a bullet in his skull if he hurts you.





	1. The Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Blood, blood consumption  
> This is the sequel for A Night to Remember. ANtR isn’t required reading, but it’s a short fic, well worth the time just for the bit of background you get! I’m playing fast and loose with Supernatural lore here. Bear with me.

[Originally posted by tanrininprezervatifi](https://tmblr.co/ZPzPyl2SnYp5O)

“Go go go!” Steve yelled as he shoved himself next to you on Baby’s already-cramped bench seat and slammed the passenger door shut so hard the whole car shook.

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Bucky said, strained, as he flicked the ignition and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal the moment he was able. Baby’s tires screeched and skidded in the gravel for a few agonizingly long moments before they eventually found traction. 

You spun in your seat and stared out the rear window, looking for any movement in the trees. Steve exclaimed his distress as Bucky swerved dangerously on the narrow dirt road and a second later you felt Steve’s slightly cool arms around your waist, holding you firmly in place as Bucky wove through the twisting countryside. 

“Jesus, Doll, you nearly made me run us off the road,” Bucky cursed, eyes not leaving the road in front of him. 

“Sorry, Buck,” you murmured distractedly, frail human eyes trained warily on the rapidly-shifting scenery. 

You felt more than saw Steve shift next to you, likely looking for any pursuers, too. 

The three of you sat tensely for a minute before you finally felt safe enough to carefully twist back in your seat, this time wary of jostling Bucky’s arms. 

“Anything followin’ us?” Bucky asked gruffly, sending the rear-view mirror a paranoid glance. 

“Doesn’t appear so. Seems like the dogs gave up,” Steve said quietly as he turned his attention back to the two of you. He went still then a second later, nostrils flaring. “You’re hurt,” Steve said, shockingly blue eyes focused completely on you. 

You fought back the fight or flight instinct that was attempting to rear its ugly head at the hunger in Steve’s eyes. A year together and he’d never broken his promise of never hurting you or Bucky and you weren’t about to let his being a vampire stop you from liking the man. 

A quick pat down ended with you hissing in pain as your hand met your forearm. Sure enough, your hand came away red with tacky half-dried blood. You didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes tracked your arm as you turned it so you could see the somewhat worrisome gash painting your sleeve red. 

“You alright there, pal?” Bucky asked sharply over your head. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was likely shooting Steve a cold, assessing look. 

Steve gulped audibly and nodded, gaze flicking up from you to Bucky and back down again. “‘M alright. Should get that patched up soon, though,” he said shakily. 

“Is it a bite?” Bucky asked tersely, worry seeping into his voice. 

You studied the wound carefully and tried your best to remember the fight that had gone south for the three of you so quickly. You were pretty sure you’d remember getting bitten by a werewolf, though. “Think it’s just a scratch.” 

Bucky shifted restlessly beside you and you were surprised when Steve gently took your arm and looked at the cut closely, brows pulled low over his eyes and jaw clenched tightly. 

“Steve…” Bucky said quietly, warning in his voice. 

“’M okay,” Steve breathed, coiled tightly as a spring.

In a show of trust you turned away from Steve as he assessed your arm and ran your free hand through Bucky’s long, windblown hair. Some of the tension leaked out of his shoulders at the touch and you smiled fondly at him. “Thanks for worrying about me, Bucky.”

He looked a little bit too much like a pleased cat as your fingernails scraped gently at his scalp, the glance of his grey-blue eyes holding nothing but adoration. “It’s my job to worry about you. Both of you,” he said quietly, gaze sliding to Steve, who was still staring at your wound with an intensity that likely would have scared you a year ago. 

Both you and Bucky twitched at the sound of ripping fabric and you turned back to look at Steve, surprised to find him ripping a long strip off his shirt off. You raised an eyebrow but a second later he was carefully wrapping it around the wound on your arm, giving you an apologetic glance as you hissed in pain as the cotton met the open wound. 

“Not a bite,” he reaffirmed. “We can clean it up proper later, but it’s more important to stop the bleeding now,” Steve said calmly, as though his pupils weren’t blown wide with lust and longing from the scent saturating the car. 

“Thanks Stevie,” you said with a smile, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. Your smile only widened as his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and he suddenly looked taken aback, not at all like the deadly creature of the night that he was. He glanced away and, now that Bucky was going a much more reasonable speed, rolled down the window. “Tasha’s is closest. We should stop there.” 

Bucky nodded along to that idea, giving you another inconspicuous glance that you only noticed because you’d long since taken notice of his ticks. Unlike Steve, Bucky’s affection wasn’t as large or grand, but obvious in the small things he did; gentle touches, watchful gazes, unwavering loyalty, extreme appreciation of your cooking (pies, specifically, got the most love). 

Natasha was one of the few hunters who would still tolerate your presences. The entire hunter community hadn’t taken kindly to Bucky working with a “bloodsucker” and, of course, you’d gotten a share of the hate, too. Many of his old contacts wouldn’t even pick up his calls and more than one had threatened to shoot him, you, and Steve on sight if they saw you. 

There were others, of course. Bucky had saved Thor’s life a few years back and the big blond hunter vowed to help his savior, no matter the company he kept. Bruce said he didn’t really care either way and Bucky had said, darkly, that he was thankful that, out of everyone, Bruce was someone who hadn’t turned on them. You couldn’t fathom why; for a hunter, Banner was mild-mannered, intelligent, and not all that dangerous-looking. The most confusing might have been Sam, though. He and Bucky hated each other with a passion, but he still allowed the three of you in his house whenever the need arose. Clint offered backup but didn’t allow any of you anywhere near his house. In fact, none of you knew where it was. Tony was an eccentric hunter contact who seemed more fascinated by Steve- and, specifically, your and Bucky’s relationship to him- than afraid or disgusted. He asked a lot of questions (talking a mile a minute while he did so), and always rewarded you for his endless prodding with whatever reagents the three of you asked for. 

However, they were the minority. Not to mention most other vampires hated Steve for staying with you and Bucky. Vampires liked to stay in nests together, after all. They generally treated humans like food, not sentient beings. That one of their own would stay with two humans and even hunt their own kind? Well, the three of you had a trunk full of more axes and machetes than one would find in a knife store. 

So it was essentially the three of you against the world. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” you muttered, moving to crawl into the back seat. 

“No you don’t,” Bucky said instantly, taking his eyes off the road long enough to glare at you. 

“Bucky!” you whined pathetically. You were so tired… and you hadn’t lost _that_ much blood. 

“Bucky’s right, Sweetheart,” Steve said gently. 

You turned to look at him, betrayed, but he only smiled kindly at you. “Not you too,” you moaned despairingly, head hung low. 

“Then how about we make a deal.” You were surprised when Steve reached for your bloody hand and pulled it close to his face. Bucky tensed next to you, wary and watchful but trusting in Steve’s self control. 

His pink tongue darted out and licked a long line up your index finger. The effect was instantaneous: black overtook his eyes and his fangs shot out, but he stayed very still, holding your hand gently in his. 

Heat shot straight to your face at the naked wanting in his eyes, but you stayed as calm as you could, not wanting to give into any instincts that would instantly mark you as “prey” to his base vampire nature. 

He closed his eyes as he licked slowly up your middle finger, a low sound of pleasure rumbling in his chest. 

Next to you, Bucky made a tiny strangled noise but he kept quiet and still, not wanting to interrupt or threaten Steve while he was eating. 

“I’m listening,” you said, but your voice failed and it came out as a whisper instead. 

Steve’s unearthly glowing blue eyes fixed on yours again and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “You stay awake for the ride to Natasha’s-” a pause as his bloodstained tongue lapped at your ring finger. A shudder ran down your spine and the corner of his lips tilted up. “-You let her check your arm out-” You stayed deathly still as the took your pinky in his mouth, fighting back a shiver of fear and pleasure as his fangs brushed ever-so-lightly against your skin. But a second later it was out of his mouth, now as clean as the others. “-And Bucky and I make you feel real good?” He mouthed wet kisses to your palm, tongue darting out to lap at the sticky blood. From the way his eyes closed and he sighed, he was clearly enjoying himself. 

You felt yourself drawn closer to him, loving the way you could make him feel. It was a powerful, heady feeling knowing how you affected him. You knew that making him feel good would feel good for you too, and-

“That’s enough of that!” A metal fist sailed over your head and struck Steve upside the head. It Bucky had been punching a human it would have easily knocked them out, but Steve’s head merely whipped to the side for a second. He blinked a few times, expression a bit blank, and a second later the black of his eyes retreated to its usual white and his fangs receded slowly. 

He glanced sheepishly at you, once again looking anything but the large, dangerous predator he was. “Sorry…” he muttered, subconsciously running a hand through his bangs as his gaze drifted to the floor of the car.

A wry smirk lit up your face. “I’ll only be angry if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain later.” 

Steve’s head whipped up so quickly it nearly gave _you_ whiplash. “You’re not mad?” he asked warily. 

You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss that had him blushing to his ears. “Didn’t hurt me, Stevie. ‘Sides, how can I stay mad at a face like that?” you teased.

Steve, ever the debonair gentleman, stumbled for words and failed to find them. Instead, he leaned back and placed an arm over the back of the chair. You leaned into his side, smiling when your thigh ended up resting up against Bucky’s as you shuffled about. Without having to look you knew Steve’s hand was on Bucky’s shoulder, massaging absently. 

“Don’t go to sleep,” Bucky reminded you gently. 

You smiled and knocked his knee gently with yours. “I know, Buck. Stop mother henning.” 

Bucky merely huffed an annoyed sigh and didn’t respond. 

“Y’know, it’s a good thing you didn’t get bitten. I don’t know if I could kiss you anymore if you smelled like wet dog all the time,” Steve mused, not quite able to keep the smile out of his voice. 

For his efforts you elbowed him the stomach, thankful it was your good arm. “Shut up, Steve.”

You were pretty sure you ended up doing more damage to your elbow than his rib cage and were rewarded with a chuckle and kiss to the top of your head. 

Narrow escapes from a pack of werewolves? Just a normal Tuesday. Together, the three of you could do anything. 

 

Or so you thought.


	2. The Friends

[Originally posted by saldanagamora](https://tmblr.co/ZHjnLm2Z15BfY)

The drive to Tasha’s was, in a word, grueling. When the three of you were sure you wouldn’t be followed any longer, Bucky pulled over and Steve took over driving so he could slide into the back seat and patch you up. Every gentle jostle from pot holes or bumps was uncomfortable, but Steve and Bucky kept you distracted the entire way. Once he was sure you weren’t in danger, Bucky pulled you onto his lap and let you take a nap, though it wasn’t particularly restful (the pain meds could only do so much, after all).

“Wake up, Doll. We’re almost there.” 

You blinked slowly, but awoke pretty quickly thanks to the dull, painful throbbing of your arm. It was late or very, very early. A glance at your phone revealed that, yes, it was around 3 AM. 

“She’s gonna kill us for waking her up,” you muttered as you buried your face in Bucky’s chest. You didn’t want to move, much less provoke Natasha’s wrath. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through your hair. “She might think about it, but then she’ll take one look at you and it’ll be okay.”

“I look that bad?” you asked miserably, though you knew you were covered in dried blood. If you looked half as tired as you felt you knew you wouldn’t be a pretty sight. 

“You look gorgeous, like you always do,” Steve said instantly from the front seat. 

You and Bucky rolled your eyes in unison, but you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“You look like you got put through a wood chipper,” Bucky said playfully and you smacked him on the chest for his effort, but he only laughed. “Maybe try that again when your arms hit harder then a pool noodle.” 

You groaned and thunked your head against his chest. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, Doll.” You felt his lips brush against your forehead and you smiled fondly against his shirt.

“(Y/N), Bucky…” 

Something in the tone of Steve’s voice snapped you into alertness and you sat up straighter in Bucky’s lap, turning to look at Steve. “What-?” You froze at the sight in front of you. 

Natasha’s house was a smoking, charred mess. Debris was littered all around the property and a large chunk of what looked like a bed and a bit of the roof blocked you from driving any further down the road. 

Steve parked and was out of the car in a flash, running towards the wreckage. You and Bucky clattered out after him, the pain in your arm temporarily forgotten as adrenaline surged through you. 

“Natasha! Tasha! Answer us! Are you here, Natasha? Please answer!” Your voices rang out in the night and, with each passing second dread collected in the pit of your stomach. If she had been home when this happened-

“James.” 

It was quiet, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it at first. 

However, Steve’s superior ears picked it up and he started running towards the source before you and Bucky could do anything.

“Natasha!” Steve called out. You and Bucky ran after him, pulling your shirts over your faces to keep out the lingering smoke. 

“Steve.” You heard her clearly this time, though she sounded weak. That was almost scarier than seeing her house blown to bits and it was only the relief of hearing alive that kept the horror at bay. 

Steve dropped to his knees and began carefully shoving and juggling debris until you and Bucky could get past him and under it to open up the trapdoor that had likely once been in the center of her living room or kitchen. It might have been easier if you could use both arms, but you and Bucky managed to get it open. Bucky held it in place while you offered Natasha your good arm, which she clasped with a pained gasp. You fell backwards as you pulled her out of the hole and she fell unceremoniously on top of you, covered in soot and breathing laboriously. 

You heard the almighty crash as the boys let the trap door and debris drop. A moment later Steve gently lifted Natasha bridal style while Bucky offered you a hand up. You were barely on your feet and Steve was already moving towards, the car, but Natasha gripped his shoulder and turned her green eyes up on him, determination and a hint of fear on her face. “Wait,” she croaked, wincing. The three of you froze and looked at her, trepidation hanging thick in the air. “Need to contact everyone. This was a hit. It’s Hydra,” she rasped. 

A chill ran down your spine. You and Bucky had your phones out instantly and the three of you renewed your speed walk towards the car. 

You glanced at Bucky. “Sam,” you said as you hit the speed dial for him. He lived closest to Natasha and was, therefor, in the greatest danger. 

He nodded tersely. “Bruce.” He punched the scientist’s number into his phone and held it phone up to his ear. 

Steve placed Tasha in the back seat and Bucky clambered in after her with more grace than a man his size should have. You stopped at the trunk long enough to grab some water bottles and the medical kit (again), juggling them carefully as you shut the trunk and hopped in the passenger side. Steve already had Baby up and running and you tossed Bucky the med kit and gave Natasha the water. Your heart picked up when Sam didn’t answer, but you dialed the number again, reminding yourself it was 3 AM. Most people weren’t awake at 3 AM and definitely don’t like being woken up at 3 AM. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when Sam picked up with a groggy and vaguely annoyed, “Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

“Sam! Thank god you picked up. Get somewhere safe, fast. Natasha’s place was hit by Hydra.” 

You didn’t hear whatever he said next because Steve held his hand out for the phone and you passed it to him without hesitation. “Hey, Sam. It’s Steve. Yeah, Nat’s with us. She’s alive. We’re going to the hospital; she breathed in a lot of smoke. (Y/N) need some attention, too. We were headed to Natasha’s place to rest but it was in smoking pieces. It’s a miracle she’s alive.”

Whatever Sam said next had the corner of Steve’s lip tugging into a melancholy smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s not really luck if you’re as paranoid as her.” That earned Steve a kick to the back of the head from Natasha’s foot, but that only made Steve’s smile widen. “I think she’s gonna be okay.” Sam said something else and the smile slipped off of Steve’s face. “No, if your place is warded up and defensible stay there. We can keep an eye on her.” Whatever Sam said in response to that made Steve sigh. “Sam, you-” Steve frowned and pulled the phone away and when he saw the end call screen he groaned, then handed your phone back to you.

“That sounded like it went well,” you said, amused, as you punched in Thor’s number. 

Steve huffed. “He said he’ll meet us at the hospital.”

You reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. His blue eyes flicked to you and he gave you a halfhearted smile. “He’ll be okay. Sam is a big boy.” 

Steve glared at the road and pushed Baby a little faster. You could hear Bucky murmuring to Bruce on the phone along with the occasional smothered, painful cough from Natasha. “I know, but it’s _Hydra_.” 

Hydra. A coalition of sentient monster species, out to destroy human society and implement a new world order (with humans at the bottom, food for their ranks). They turned Steve all those years ago, trying to make him into one of their own, but the joke was on them. Steve refused to help them and they only added to his prowess as a hunter. 

You patted his arm while you waited for Thor to pick up. “It’s going to be okay, Steve. One step at a time, alright? Contacting friends, hospital, then planning revenge, alright?” 

He threw you an appreciative smile that turned a little wry as he said, “What, I can’t multitask?” 

You grinned, but the line connected and you had to devote your attention to letting Thor know what was happening. Behind you, you could hear Bucky on the phone with Clint.

* * *

You were more than a little relieved when the town came into view on the horizon. Not only did Natasha desperately need medical attention, with the adrenaline gone once again, you were left even more drained than before. 

Steve pulled into the driveway to the emergency room of the hospital and you were out in a flash, helping Bucky get Natasha out of the back seat and into his arms so he could carry her inside. You could tell from the sour expression on her face that she hated being babied, but she didn’t have much of a choice. 

You glanced back at Steve, who was hovering at the driver side door, staring at Natasha worriedly. His eyes met yours and you tried to smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace. “Go park. If they take us in before you make it into the waiting room Bucky or I will text you the details.” 

He nodded, frown still set firmly onto his face. “Be there in a moment.” He paused, halfway to getting back into the passenger seat, and his head popped back up over the hood of the car. “I love you.” 

You smiled earnestly at him this time. “I love you too, Stevie. Now go,” you said, blowing him a kiss before you turned on your heel and walked quickly into the hospital. You heard Baby’s engine purr loudly as Steve peeled out of the driveway and towards the hospital’s garage. 

* * *

The curtains in your and Natasha’s room were closed, blocking out the light. Steve still sat in the darkest corner, watching you and the redhead instead of the TV (not that you blamed him- daytime television is its own form of torture). Bucky sat between the two of you, fetching things from outside the room whenever either of you asked. 

Fake insurance and ID cards identified you and Natasha as the Ghullie sisters, a private joke between hunters. The nurse raised an eyebrow when she compared the ID cards, glancing between you and Natasha warily, but you smirked. “Adopted. Our parents got a smart one so they thought they might as well try for a pretty one next.” 

Natasha punched your shoulder and Bucky groaned. “Smart ass, maybe…” he muttered, and you stepped on his foot, but the nurse seemed to accept your lie and nodded as she entered the information. 

Within a minute there was a nurse guiding Natasha back into a room in a wheelchair and you were sent to a room of your own. Only after Natasha had been stabilized and you’d put up a stink about being separated did they put you in the same room. 

It was about a half hour after you’d been admitted that Sam came knocking, looking a little rumpled but none too worse for the wear. 

When he saw all of you in one piece his shoulders literally sagged with the relief. He shut the door gently behind him and pulled up the last remaining uncomfortable plastic chair. 

Which made it awkward when, a few hours later, Bruce tentatively stuck his head in the door, relaxing a bit when he saw the five of you. He hovered awkwardly at the edge of the beds until Bucky took pity on him and gave him his seat.

The room was, quite frankly, already cramped before Thor showed up, but it became downright stuffy when he piled in, too. You wondered idly if a nurse would come by and kick all of them out soon, but you had a feeling the brooding blond man in the corner had done something to prevent that. 

Clint bumbled in dressed in vaguely disgusting sweats and dark black sunglasses and you all took one look at him and dissolved into laughter, but he shoved his hands over his ears and shushed all of you as he turned down his hearing aids. Immediately, he shuffled across the room and curled up on Natasha’s bed, much to her amusement. 

There was barely room to move around, so when Tony sauntered into the room and announced his arrival, you all groaned. Tony looked torn between being crushed and offended, so you immediately waved him over, smile on your face. He walked over, dodging Thor’s [notoriously painful] greeting of a few pats to the back. 

“See, you’re my favorite for a reason,” he said conspiratorially as he sat down on the edge of your bed. 

You smirked at him. “Better not let Pepper hear you say that or you’ll be sleeping on the couch, pal,” you teased.

Tony gasped, mock-offended. “I would sleep in my second, smaller mansion, actually. Or maybe the opulent guest room.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Please. If it meant getting back into her good graces you’d sleep in a literal dog house.” 

Tony opened his mouth to argue, then shut it with an audible snap. He considered that for a moment before he nodded. “You’re probably right about that. Besides, that could be fun,” his smile turned lecherous as he waggled his eyebrows and you couldn’t help but laugh. The sound made Clint groan and curl further in on himself. This caught Tony’s attention and he was off your bed in a flash, eager to annoy a clearly hungover Barton. 

You looked over at Bucky and Steve, who had their heads together in the corner, faint smiles dancing on the corners of their faces at the sight of their closest friends and allies around them. Bucky caught you staring and nudged Steve’s shoulder. His blue eyes flicked to you as Bucky nodded in your direction and your heart melted at the way they both smiled warmly at you. 

“So.” You all turned to look at Tony, who had finally stopped annoying Clint long enough to get down to business. “Hydra’s after us, right? All hunters or just us because we play nice with you?” he asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact. 

“Unclear,” Sam said with a frown. “Natasha’s the only one of us that’s been attacked so far.” 

“We drop a line to Hope and Scott yet?” Clint managed to get out, though the words were more slurred than not. 

“Yes, I contacted them after I was informed of the situation. They’re in an entrenched position with Doctor Pym. I asked them to contact me if the situation changed,” Thor said. 

“Guys.” It was Bucky who spoke, but it was so quiet and raspy that only you and Steve heard, likely because you were so attuned to his voice. You turned to look at him, frowning when you saw the look on his face. You followed his line of sight and felt your blood run cold. 

“Well, it sounds like we have some time to gather some information. I can reach out to a few contacts of mine, see if they’ve heard anything.” 

“Guys,” you said faintly, watching the water in the plastic cup on your side table quake. You’d seen Jurassic Park. Now that you paid attention you could feel the tremors in the bed, too, and you slowly slunk off the mattress and headed to Steve and Bucky. 

Bucky and Steve were already on their feet, looking everywhere for the danger. It could just be an earthquake, but you were in the wrong area for them and none of you were that lucky.

“It’s possible this was just a one-off to scare us off.”

Bruce, Sam, and Natasha had noticed the way you, Bucky, and Steve were acting. They were quiet and tense, but Thor, Clint, and Tony were still unaware of the possible danger. “Guys!” Steve said loudly, and that finally got their attention, though Clint made a noise of protest at the loud sound. “I think we’re in danger,” he said, gaze sliding from them to the now violently shaking glass of water. 

All eyes flicked to it, then to Steve as he yanked the curtains open. It was already eight pm, but the night was unnaturally dark. The city lights seemed duller than they should have been. 

You turned to look at the group, eyes wide. “Please tell me you have weapons.” 

“What kind of people would we be if we took guns and knives into a hospital?” Clint grumbled, offended. 

Except a second later he pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his sweats. He reached into his sweatshirt and a second later pulled a long machete from its depths. 

Likewise, the rest of the group was pulling pistols and knives out left and right. Thor had somehow managed to smuggle a shotgun in, but you wondered where he’d put it, because his clothes seemed entirely too tight to hide one.

Even Natasha pulled a revolver out from under her pillow and you stared at her, dumbfounded. “Where and when did you get that? How did you hide it in the hospital gown?” 

Natasha merely winked at you. “Tell you later,” she whispered, voice nearly gone. 

Bucky was passing a six-inch long blade to Steve when you turned around. He glanced at you and was in the middle of pulling out another to give to you when you sighed and pulled out your custom Walther PPK. “I’m good, Buck,” you said, with a smirk. He said nothing and held the knife out to you anyway, not budging until you took it from him. When you finally did he smiled and kissed you on the forehead before moving to rest of the group, likely to make sure they all had enough sharp objects to stab things with. 

“Is it just me or has the shaking stopped?” Tony asked, frowning at the ceiling and the window.

The entire room froze and looked around, but eventually Steve nodded. “It’s definitely stopped shaking.” 

“That’s good, right?” Clint asked, unsure.

But all of you were frowning. “It’s definitely not good,” Bruce said ominously. 

“Smell that?” Thor asked, nostrils flaring. You all sniffed the air consciously and immediately wrinkled your noses in distaste. “Brimstone.” 

“Demons,” Sam said, face thunderous.

“And probably others, knowing Hydra,” Steve added darkly. 

You glanced at Clint. “Didn’t happen to bring your hula hoops with you, didja, circus man?” 

His usual easy smiles were gone, replaced by grim determination. “Left ‘em in the car.” 

“Hard way it is then,” you heard Bucky mutter beside you, eyes the kind of ice that they only got when he faced down the most terrible of monsters. 

“How many, you think? Five? Ten?” Tony asked, then added with a smirk, “Baker’s dozen?”

Natasha glared at him, but that only made him smile harder. He was always like that, making jokes when things were the most grim. You supposed it was his way of trying to help. 

Unlike the rest of you, he was armed with a small arsenal of high-tech monster-killing weapons. He wouldn’t be caught dead with a saw off, no matter how badass you told him it made people look. Bruce, too, was forgoing most conventional weapons in lieu of all sorts of vials and reagents that you knew would come in handy if and when it came to a fight. 

“With an entrance like that…? Twenty, easy, and that’s only the demons,” Bucky said darkly. Even Tony quieted a bit at that. 

“I can smell some dogs out there for sure and I can feel the vampires trying to get in my head,” Steve said. One glance at his clenched jaw and tense shoulders and you knew he’d be putting half of his attention into keeping the other vampires out. It’d seriously hurt your group’s fighting capabilities. 

Bucky’s hand was between his shoulder blades in an instant, rubbing the worst of it away. Steve shot him a grateful, loving look, and you couldn’t help but dart forward and place matching kisses to their cheeks. 

Steve was back to business immediately though. “Alright, people, phones out. Get the exorcism recording up on your phones. If they don’t run from that, shoot it till it stops moving. If that doesn’t work, go for the head. Ready?” There was a chorus of affirmatives around the room, and Steve gave all of you fleeting smiles. “If you get hit, hit ‘em back. If you get killed… walk it off.” 

And then he opened the door and all hell broke loose.


	3. Spooky, Scary Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the past between Steve and Bucky, and how everything went horribly, terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, gore, death, graphic violence, mildly nsfw (dirty talking)  
> A/N: Please check the warnings before you read! Did I listen to Spooky Scary Skeletons on repeat while I wrote this? Yes, yes I did.

[Originally posted by minmiin1d](https://tmblr.co/Zfk--q29v-MJq)

**Three Years Ago**

Sometimes when Bucky looked at Steve he was surprised at what he found. When they were kids Steve was best described as a beanpole, but then puberty hit him like a truck and suddenly Bucky was the shorter one (but _only by one inch, Steve. Ya damn punk._ ).

Bucky stared at him from the doorway and, for a highly trained hunter, it was a little pathetic that Steve hadn’t noticed him yet. In fact, it was almost unheard of for Steve to have his nose buried in his phone like he did. Normally he was flipping through his ma’s journal or tomes older than Jesus himself. No, Steve and tech didn’t get along much.

This did, however, present the perfect opportunity to get the drop on the usually sharp-eared hunter.

Bucky crept across the wooden floors of the little shithole of a house they lived in, so quiet that he barely dared to breathe.

Steve had an adorable frown on his face that made Bucky smile. He inched forward until his lips were right next to his ear, but Steve didn’t so much as twitch, completely oblivious.

Bucky grinned wickedly. “Whatcha doin’ there, punk?” he asked loudly.

The way Steve slowly turned to look at him made Bucky think that, perhaps, he wasn’t as stealthy as he’d thought. Bucky froze at the look on Steve’s face; something akin to wonder and surprise but with a deep-seated wariness that came with years of being a small, stubborn (if not often morally correct) kid.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed, as if seeing him for the first time.

Bucky was a little concerned now. Steve rarely reacted this mildly when Bucky got up to his shenanigans. “What’s up, pal?” he asked carefully with a playful smirk. Maybe Steve had hit his head in that fight against the ghost yesterday? That thing had been particularly cunning.

Wordlessly, Steve held his phone up to Bucky, who threw Steve a confused look before he took it from the blond.

 

> _Gay Marriage Legalized in All Fifty States  
>  _
> 
> _On June 26, 2015, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down all state bans on same-sex marriage, legalized it in all fifty states, and required states to honor out-of-state same-sex marriage licenses in the case Obergefell v. Hodges._

He’d barely finished reading the first sentence when Steve spoke.

“Marry me.”

Bucky looked up from his phone, eyes widening in surprise. Steve had that set to his jaw and that stubborn look in his eyes and Bucky realized all at once he hadn’t hallucinated that. Still, his mind refused to accept it. “What?” he asked dumbly.

Steve’s cheeks tinged pink, but he held Bucky’s gaze unwaveringly. “You heard me.”

Bucky’s brain stopped working. Steve broke it. Trying to comprehend what Steve had just asked him was like trying to fit a sphere into a square-shaped hole. Did not compute. Error 404 answer not found. Try again later. Insert coin to continue.

So rather than answer with anything sincere- the way Steve deserved- Bucky’s brain reverted back to its default state. That is, to say, an asshole.

“What, pal, you didn’t even spring for a ring? How’s a guy supposed to know you mean business?” he asked with a cocky smirk as he stood up straight, hip cocked. The moment his brain caught up to what he’d said, Bucky honestly expected to get his ass chewed out. But Steve was never one to be predictable (much to Bucky’s consternation).

It was a show of how well Steve knew Bucky and how high he was on adrenaline and endorphins that he didn’t so much as blink at Bucky’s answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket, dug around for a second, and pulled out a simple gold band.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stopped for a solid two seconds before it lurched painfully back into action. Suddenly he was in motion, practically vaulting over the couch to kneel in front of Steve. “I’m sorry I’m such an ass. Say it again. Please, God, say it again,” he pleaded, taking Steve’s hands between his.

Steve smiled hesitantly, the first real emotion besides shock and stubbornness that Bucky had seen since entering the room. “Marry me, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky rose off his knees and enveloped Steve in his arms in a way he would have been hesitant to in their childhood. “You’re never getting rid of me, punk,” Bucky breathed into Steve’s short blond hair, clutching him as close as he could. It wasn’t enough.

“So that’s a yes?” Steve teased gently, his face buried in the other man’s neck.

Bucky leaned back enough to begin planting kisses all over Steve’s face. “Yes. Yes yes _yes_ , you complete asshole!”

Steve was laughing now, eyes twinkling just a bit wetly, though he’d never admit it. “Stay still, jerk,” Steve chastised gently as he took Bucky’s left hand in his. Bucky was practically vibrating with emotion but stayed still long enough for Steve to slip the ring onto his third finger.

Steve stared at it fondly for all of one second before Bucky was on him again, lips tracing well worn paths all over Steve’s skin.

They were short of breath, with Bucky grinding slow and dirty on Steve’s lap, when the blond had finally had enough. In a show of strength that always got Bucky’s blood pumping, Steve lifted him easily from the couch as he stood. Immediately, Bucky’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist, arms around his shoulders and neck. “Someone’s eager,” Bucky cooed, biting Steve’s earlobe for emphasis.

A breathy groan left Steve’s slightly parted lips and the sound jumped directly to Bucky’s dick, but that was nothing compared to Steve’s next words. “I’m going to carry you to our bedroom and tear your clothes off.” He began walking in the direction of said room and Bucky grinned wickedly, loving when Steve worked past his initial shyness. “Then you’re going to suck my dick. After that, I’m going to ride your cock until I cum all over you.”

Bucky groaned low in his throat as Steve’s hands traveled south and cupped his ass through his jeans. “Fuck, Stevie. I love you,” he whispered breathlessly.

Steve smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling in the low light. “I love you too, Buck.”

* * *

They were going to get married the day after Steve proposed, but they got distracted by a ghost in the town they were visiting. Bucky ended up staying out of commission for a few days with a nasty concussion.

* * *

They tried again a month later after some particularly grueling run-ins with a skin walker, but Steve ended up breaking a leg when he jumped out of a window. Bucky called him an idiot for two days straight even while he studiously went to every appointment with him, going so far as to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital seat the first night.

* * *

After that they started to see increased activity and their free time fell to the wayside as the innocent bodies began piling up.

* * *

Six months after Steve proposed was the time they first heard the word _Hydra_. Their first thought was the actual monster, but it turned out to be worse than that.

It was an organized force of sentient monster species.

They called every hunter they knew to warn them, not knowing it was they that Hydra had set their sights on.

* * *

It had been a trap.

The battle haze that Bucky had gained from equal time in the army and as a hunter didn’t stop him from seeing his friends dead around him. Dum Dum’s head was facing the wrong direction. Dernier’s red beret was the least red part of his body. Gabe’s throat was ripped out, his chest a gaping hole where ribs and a heart used to be. Jim’s limbs were scattered across the mostly empty warehouse. James’ death was perhaps the least outwardly gruesome, but blood trickled from every orifice and his every blood vessel had ruptured. 

Bucky… the adrenaline was masking the worst of the pain, but he could smell his own blood, iron and sharp, in his nose. His left arm had been ripped cleanly from his body by a vampire. He could see it a few feet away, the bright band of gold on his ring finger tarnished with blood. He’d be dead in a minute, the moment the monsters decided to stop playing with their food, but Steve-

_Steve._

“Bucky! _Bucky!_ ” The sound of his frenzied yells broke through the wall of agony and shock and Bucky turned his head, bleary eyes searching for the blond man.

Steve was trying to fight off a group of vampires, but failing. They had him pinned down.

Even as Bucky watched, Steve tried to shove away an arm that was dripping with blood.

Vampire blood.

They forced his mouth open and shoved the bleeding forearm into his mouth and Steve choked as he tried to spit it back out, but they didn’t give him an inch.

“No,” Bucky rasped. He summoned the last of his energy and raised himself up, stumbling slightly as he tried to use his left arm, forgetting briefly he didn’t have one anymore. He made it as far as kneeling before a werewolf walked up and backhanded him so hard he nearly blacked out.

When he gathered the strength to open his eyes, a pair of familiar boots was standing in front of him. His gaze slowly drifted upwards, freezing when his eyes fell on Steve’s face. At least, Bucky was _pretty sure_ it was Steve’s face. The eyes were practically glowing and Steve’s parted lips revealed rows and rows of sharp teeth.

Steve dropped to his knees in the growing pool of Bucky’s blood and Bucky flinched away violently, not seeing the way Steve’s eyes clouded over in pain.

Or the way the pain turned to lust when he inhaled and the scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils.

Steve picked him up like he weighed nothing and dragged him into his lap, nosing at the long strands of Bucky’s hair. “Smell so good, baby,” he whispered dreamily.

Bucky fumbled for the pistol stuffed into his waistband, fighting against the growing black spots in his vision and the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Stevie, look at me,” he said faintly. Surprisingly, the blond looked up at him and Bucky fought back the wave of repulsion at the sight of his fiance’s visage. Whatever changes were going on in Steve were distracting enough that he didn’t notice Bucky reach for the gun.

But Bucky froze when Steve’s fingers drifted to the pulpy mass of his left shoulder. It should have been agonizing, but Bucky felt _nothing_. He could see Steve’s fingers drifting over the landscape of red, pink, and white, but it was like his nerves couldn’t even begin to register it.

“Steve, _no_ ,” Bucky breathed, watching in horror as Steve brought his hand away and looked at his crimson-stained fingers. It was almost like he wasn’t consciously moving his hand, like he couldn’t even hear Bucky. His tongue darted out and, one by one, he licked his fingertips clean of Bucky’s blood. Bucky was dying, but somehow the feeling of his heart breaking overrode the pain in his body. Shock was a hell of a thing. “Steve…” he gasped.

The eyes that looked at him then weren’t the ones Bucky had known all of his life. They were cold and predatory and all at once Bucky understood. He’d die here, killed by the man he loves; a monster.

Steve lunged for Bucky’s throat, mouth open wide, but before he could sink his teeth into the tender skin of Bucky’s neck, a voice froze him in place.

“Wait.” Steve tore his eyes from Bucky, gaze slowly sliding to the source of the noise. Unlike most vampires, this man looked old. Bucky could only begin to guess how old he actually was. “Leave him,” the older man commanded.

Steve dropped him unceremoniously back onto the filthy, bloodstained cement floor, stood, and took a step back. 

Bucky was so sick in the head he actually missed Steve’s touch.

The man stepped closer until he filled Bucky’s view and Bucky’s gaze slid from Steve to him.

“You’re going to die slowly and painfully. This is what fate awaits those who oppose Hydra,” he said, gesturing to Bucky and the remains of his team, and the other monsters. “All will join us… or die. Spend your last pathetic mortal moments wallowing in the agony of knowing you failed, hunter. Come, Steven.”

The older man walked out of view. Steve didn’t even look at Bucky and merely followed after the older vampire. Bucky drew his gun and used the last of his energy to point it at Steve.

Steve did pause, then, and turned to look at Bucky. His eyes were back to normal, fangs retracted. He stared at Bucky over the barrel of the gun and it was likely just Bucky’s quickly deteriorating state, but he could have sworn he saw Steve mouth _“Do it.”_

That had been the promise, after all.

_“If I ever get turned into a monster, you shoot me or chop my head off and burn the remains. You got that?” Bucky had told Steve one day after a particularly close call._

_Steve looked like he wanted to argue but bit his cheek and stayed quiet so long Bucky almost thought he wouldn’t agree, but then he muttered, “Only if you promise to do the same for me.”_

Bucky couldn’t pull the trigger. He stared at his love, face twisted in pain and anger, but he couldn’t pull the damn trigger.

“ _Now_ , Steven.”

Steve’s eyes lingered on Bucky only a moment longer before he turned and followed the old vampire out the door.

Bucky had failed. He couldn’t keep his promise. He was going to die. The gun clattered to the ground and Bucky cried silently, tears running down his cheeks. His closest friends, dead. His fiance, a bloodsucking monster. And he’d been too weak to set it right.

_Why the hell are you giving up?_

A voice (too much like the Steve he knew as a kid) echoed around in his brain and Bucky’s eyes shot open, determination lining his features.

He couldn’t die here. He had a promise to keep, friends to avenge.

He grunted and sat up, hoping that they hadn’t left underlings behind to make sure he kicked the bucket. He’d barely have enough energy to stand.

First order of business: stop the bleeding from the stump formerly known as his arm. Preferably before the blood loss killed him.


	4. The Siege

**Present Day**

 

By the time you waded into the hallway, gun raised and teeth gritted, Steve, Bucky, and Thor had already cut a swath of destruction through the hallway to the left. Clint, Sam, and Tony were holding their own against a trickle of monsters coming from the right. You and Natasha, as the most injured, were to stay in the middle of the group and offer as much fire support as you could while the others fought toe to toe with monsters that made it past the hail of bullets.

Demons ran screeching from the recorded exorcism rituals blasting from your phones but it didn't stop the lightning-quick vampires or savagely powerful werewolves from trying to ravage your tiny band. Thor, Steve, and Bucky led from the front; enough power to slam through the monsters stupid enough to get close to them. You and Natasha followed closely behind and, while you weren't as good of a shot as her or Clint (especially not with your arm wrapped up like a burrito), you were good enough to put silver in the chest of skinwalkers and wolves as fast as they could turn the corner. Banner put himself between you and Tony, Sam and Clint, throwing all sorts of vials and powders that were as effective against the monsters as bullets (or more effective in a few cases). Tony, Sam and Clint easily mowed through anything that got the bright idea of trying to flank you from behind.

By the time you made it to the stairwell you were out of bullets.

"Gun!" you called to the three in front who had forgone firearms in favor of machetes and axes in such close quarters. Bucky pulled his handgun from his holster and tossed it to you with only a glance before he kicked a werewolf in the midsection and followed the blow up with an axe to the head. You caught the revolver with ease and quickly checked the cylinder. Five shots left. Not ideal. Natasha had already run out of bullets and grabbed Steve's from the back of his waistband and used the empty gun as a blunt object to bludgeon anything close to her. You knew that Bruce's concoctions weren't infinite. Neither were Clint and Sam's guns or Tony's weird light-energy-gun-thing. You were positive that, by the time you made it to the bottom floor, the fight would be reduced to a gruesome melee. Fighting in the stairwell was cramped and dangerous. Not only did you have to kill anything that got too close, you also had to maneuver around each other and over monster corpses.

By the time the numbers on the wall read "Level 2: Pediatrics" in huge yellow letters you were out of bullets and pulled out the knife Bucky had given you. It was tiny compared to the machetes and axes some of the others were wielding but it was better than fighting bare-handed. Besides, an empty Smith & Wesson Model 29 made a considerably dangerous blunt object (even though the barrel was a little hotter than you'd like).

The words "Level 1: Check-In and Gift Shop" came into view at the same moment something below you moved faster than you could really track. All your brain registered was a blur where you'd been sure a dead vampire had been a moment before.

The ground shook and the lights went out and you screamed but it was drowned out by the sound of battle. Mostly.

 

 

You blinked.

"Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino-"

The world went dark again.

 

 

It was moving underneath you. There was a low rumbling sound. It was familiar but you couldn't quite place what it was. Your thoughts felt slow like molasses, your head clouded as though it had been stuffed to the brim with cotton.

"Sam! Sam, please tell me you can-"

"She's losing a lot of blood, man. I'm trying my best-" it was hard to focus on the words, "-the best place for her was the one we just fought our way out of and-"

"Steve! You have to turn her. She's dying, Stevie!"

You'd know that voice anywhere. That was Bucky. He sounded panicked.

"I can't."

Steve sounded sad. You wanted to kiss his frown lines away, but you couldn't get your eyelids to open for some reason. They were heavy. Really, really heavy.

A loud smacking sound and Bucky sounding angrier than you'd ever heard him. "The hell you mean you can't? You just gonna watch her die?"

Who was dying? That sounded important. You should really open your eyes and help...

The voices drifted in and out like you were flipping between TV stations and your TV was only getting about half the stations.

 

"I'm going to kill-"

 

"-can't subject her-"

 

"-care at all?"

 

"If you don't, I'll-"

 

"Wanda."

 

"-don't trust-"

 

"-only option 'cause you-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The voices eventually stopped, but you didn't mind so much. They made you anxious and for some reason the sound of them fighting made you sad. Their absence made it much easier to relax.

That was until a red glow appeared behind your eyes and you felt the distinct touch of a chilly hand on your forehead. You wanted to flinch away but your body was so heavy you didn't even twitch. The light undulated and sparked and you hated it. It wasn't quite right and you were afraid and-

"Wake up."

Your eyes opened all at once and you made an involuntary noise in the back of your throat as the light stabbed your unprepared eyes.

A heart-shaped face swam into view and a second or so later your vision sharpened enough to reveal two brilliant emerald eyes and a cascade of dark auburn hair. The moment you met her gaze she smiled. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Doll?"

With way more effort than should ever have been necessary, you turned your head all of a few inches so you could look at the source of that absolutely beautiful, wrecked voice. Bucky's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his hair greasy, and clothes disheveled. His grey-blue eyes were searching your face, brow furrowed so badly you were sure it would freeze that way.

"Bucky?" you whispered hoarsely and opened your mouth again to ask for water, but the mystery woman was already holding a glass of water with a straw up to your lips with a kind, unassuming smile.

You fumbled slightly with the straw, but the water tasted sweet and cool, like everything you'd ever needed, and you drained the glass within seconds. The woman smiled indulgently and refilled the glass while Bucky stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in and sat on the bed next to your legs. "Hey, Doll. How you doin'?" His hand found yours but you barely had the energy to squeeze back. An odd feeling had you looking down and you swallowed at the sight: enough gauze to turn your torso and legs into a mummy and so many needles and tubes that you felt sick.

"What happened?" The fight at the hospital flashed in your mind and the force of your panic was immediately reflected in the cardiac monitor near the head of the bead. "Where's everyone?" you rasped despite how painful talking was at the moment.

Bucky was leaning forward and smiling, but it was more of a grimace. "Hey, hey. Calm down, Doll. Don't worry, they're all safe."

But that didn't make sense. If they were all safe, Steve would be here with Bucky.

"Where's Steve?" you whispered, horrified at the possible answers.

Bucky's gaze flickered but you were so out of it you couldn't parse together what had flitted behind his eyes. The smile was back in place within a second. "Natasha is still recovering from her original injury. Steve is splitting his time between checking on you, her, and helping the others plan a counterattack and reinforce Wanda and Pietro's house. You just missed him."

Steve had never really left your bedside when you or Bucky had been hurt before, but this was also an unprecedented threat. He was the best strategist in the group, so it made sense for him to be working nonstop to protect all of you. Still, it hurt that he wasn't there to see you. "What happened? Who're you?" You turned the second to the mystery woman.

Bucky probably opened his mouth to answer both questions, but the woman shot him a look with her wickedly intelligent green eyes and he settled for running his human fingers over your exposed forearm. "My name is Wanda. I'm a friend of Steven's. A vampire tried very, very hard to kill you. If you'd been taken to a normal hospital you might not have made it. Thankfully, between Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, and myself, we managed to stabilize you. As it was, you came very close to dying. Quite a few times, actually." She gently squeezed the hand closest to her- the one without the IV- as your heart rate picked up again. "You're stable, now. We kept you unconscious for a time while your body worked hard to repair itself. It's been about four days since the fight at the hospital and you've recovered remarkably well thus far with our aid." Before you had a chance to ask another question, she quietly but sternly held the full glass in front of you again, bright pink straw swiveling tauntingly.

Only when the glass was empty did you speak again. "'M sorry," you whispered, looking at a spot just past Bucky's head.

Bucky's human hand came up, cupped your cheek, and gently but firmly turned your head until you looked him in the eyes. "What've you got to be sorry for, Babydoll?" he murmured, blue eyes immeasurably sad.

Talking was getting harder. Your eyes were drooping. "Got hit. Liability. Could've gotten the others killed. You. Stevie."

That fleeting shadow was there and gone again but all it left behind was a heartbreaking sadness. "No, Doll. It was my fault. Didn't behead the vamp right. It's on me. But that don't matter right now, okay? You focus on gettin' better."

You wanted to squash that self-loathing you could see growing behind his eyes, but you were so tired. All you could do was nod weakly. "Buck?"

He was staring at you closely, watchful as ever. "Yeah?"

You gave him what you hoped was a winning smile. "Shower and sleep, 'kay?"

His smile was strained but he nodded. "Whatever you say, Doll."

Satisfied, you closed your eyes and let unconsciousness take you again.

 

 

 

Time passed weirdly. Wanda or Bucky told you the time if you asked, but you woke at the oddest hours. Sometimes the sun was shining through the rune-etched window and sometimes the only thing you could see outside were the stars and moon. Once you'd woken up to a beautiful sunrise or sunset. You weren't sure which, but it was gorgeous.

Perhaps most disconcerting was that only Bucky was a constant. Not once did you wake up to Steve sitting by your bedside. You'd seen most of the team at one point or another (with Bruce and Sam being the most common guests besides Wanda and Bucky), but Steve was conspicuously absent.

A few times when you'd awoken at night you'd been fairly sure you'd seen a pair of blue eyes watching you from the shadows, but you were so tired and groggy you were sure you were imagining them. It helped that they vanished after you'd blinked.

 

 

 

Two weeks after the first time you woke up you were finally capable of holding a spoon for long enough to feed yourself. You imagined that, as useful as Bucky had felt at being there to help you at the drop of a hat, it was better to allow him some time to himself. To plan with the others and maybe relax ( _ha, fat chance_ ), shower, sleep, function like a normal human.

Two weeks also allowed you establish that Steve was 100% avoiding you. You couldn't imagine why, but it was ridiculous. You'd seen _Tony_ more than you'd seen Steve, and Tony hated being sentimental. The one time the eccentric hunter _had_ shown up was to tease you for a whole three minutes before he practically ran from the room. Natasha dodged questions about Steve so gracefully that you knew something had happened. Bucky was slightly less subtle but no less effective in his evasions, and it hadn't taken you long to notice how his face clouded over whenever you mentioned your absent blond vampire love. Wanda remained frustratingly tight-lipped, refusing point blank to say anything at all.

If you had the strength you'd march right down there yourself and ask Steve and Bucky what the hell was going on. As it was, you could hardly sit upright without getting winded. Turned out having your legs and parts of your chest reduced to mincemeat did that to a person.

 

 

 

 

After four weeks and still no Steve, you were hurt and angry. You were waiting for Bucky by the time he walked into the room and the moment he saw the look in your eyes his shoulders tensed and his eyes grew harder. "Why isn't he here, Bucky? No bullshit, no distractions. Just answers. I deserve that much."

Bucky's jaw worked as he ground his teeth together angrily. Then, just as quickly as his anger came, it drained from him and his shoulder slumped. "He was going to let you die."

You refused to let yourself react, despite the way your heart twisted painfully. You were thankful you no longer had a heart monitor to give you away. "I don't believe that."

Bucky leaned against the door and sank down to the floor. The look in his eyes made him seem much older than he was. "You were bleeding out, Doll. We had nowhere to take you. That hospital was the closest one for thirty miles. You-" he paused and ran a hand over his face as he undoubtedly relived what had happened that night. "You were dying," he choked out, gaze glued to the worn floorboards of Wanda's house. "And I knew if he didn't change you, I'd lose you. And he-" he grimaced and clenched his hands into fists. The cybernetic arm's gears ground dangerously, but he didn't seem to notice. "He said no. Kept saying no, like he couldn't see you bleeding out in front of him with your chest torn to ribbons and your legs sliced down to the bone." The look on his face was haunted, and his eyes flicked back up to you. "Natasha wanted to call Wanda, but none of us trusted her. She's ex-Hydra. I figured there was a good chance that calling her would end with _all_ of us getting killed." He sighed heavily and the back of his head hit the door with a dull thud. "But then Clint vouched for her and we called her. She's a powerful witch and met us halfway. Between her, Bruce, and Sam, we managed to keep you alive, but it was real dicey for a while. Every time she had to shock your heart to get it pumping again I wanted to kill him. Every time I think about that frantic drive away from that hospital I want to tear his fangs out one by one. But I can't. I don't. But I can't look at his face, either. Because if I do, all I see is the monster."


End file.
